


Silence

by RenaLanfordGirl (LadyArrowhead)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArrowhead/pseuds/RenaLanfordGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met in silence and slowly made their way into music itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seimaisin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Answering Our Prayers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/74075) by minorearth/seimaisin. 



> This was created for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang! Thanks to a wonderful fanmix and a lovely beta-reader (I'm looking at you, Mauve <3) it is also ready to be read by now. I hope you like it!

It was the night before her birthday, her third year in Kirkwall, her reaching the age of twenty one summers. It was never a day to celebrate for Bethany, however. Carver's death had ruined that, too. Mother had been dropping several plates, sister was still on the expedition, and Gamlen was never in a festive mood. So Bethany had gone to the only place she knew she would find some inner peace and time for herself.

The chantry. The great hall was empty by now, just Bethany and the statue of Andraste, the Maker's bride, were present. The mage knelt on the cold stone floor, eyes closed, ignoring the icy breaths that made their way along the walls through the room.

Bethany never cried, no matter how much her chest and her throat hurt. She spoke of her grief, but only what had to be spoken, for she knew that giving it no voice could destroy you inside.

Silence was a mage's best companion, even if it mixed too well with more unpleasant feelings. Guilt. Doubt. Fear. Despair. Kirkwall was filled with enough of that already; she did not need to add any more to the city she was supposed to call home. She was already perfect at it. Being silent, not mouthing any complaints, came easy to her after all the time she had had to practise.

The first time she had kept quiet was when she and Carver had been running outside, both of them young as spring itself, giggling and chasing butterflies. When he had fallen on his knees and cried, Bethany had knelt beside him, following the whispers in her head, holding her hands close to his injuries. They'd watched them heal - she speechless, Carver already understanding what it meant. When Father found them like this, his smile had frozen for just a moment before he had hugged the twins, ruffling her hair and explaining to them that they would need to be more careful.

She'd never forget that small twitching of his lips. Even now, long that he was dead, the image would sometimes come to her mind. Bethany pressed her hands more firmly together.

_You mustn't say a word, my dear Bethany, or they'll take you from us,_ Father had explained, gently running his fingers through her hair. And since magic worked best when your mind was calm and at ease, Bethany tried to remain so as long as she could.

Her throat started to hurt again, her eyes burned slightly, though they remained closed. Bethany inhaled and exhaled sharply, and the urge to cry was gone.

She hadn't cried when father died either. Had just looked at him, trying to grasp the difference between life and death, the absence of his voice and aura in the room. Mother had sobbed for days; so had her sister and Carver. Bethany had had nightmares and couldn't concentrate for a while, but she did not cry once.

Praying helped, just like it did now. The chantry made her feel welcome. Her belief in the Maker made her strong enough to endure. Even after Carver's death, stupid Carver, always charging and wanting to protect everyone, always doing everything but not looking out for himself...

Without her refuge in Kirkwall's chantry, Bethany wouldn't have been able to go on without him. Not without crying, not without letting that bit of emotion out of her and thus risking the safety of the people around her. She kept quiet instead.

"Are you alright, Serah?"

A warm voice broke the silence around her. She felt a knot forming in her throat, opening her eyes again and looking disorientated around for the source of that warm, full voice. It was winter after all, so every source of warmth should be appreciated. She found him standing at the end of the steps, close to her and yet a respectful distance away.

In moments like those when you were trying your best to fight down your grief, speaking broke your last resolve. So she nodded at the man with dark skin, red hair and blue eyes, trying to return to prayer, when his Starkhaven accent broke the silence once again.

"It is very cold in here, Serah. I do not want to disturb you in your prayer, but I wanted to suggest you follow me into one of the other rooms. There will at least be a fire. I don't want you to catch a cold."

Bethany gave him a hesitant smile, accompanied by a shake of her head. What surprised her was how he slowly walked to her side, kneeling beside her, clasping his hands together like she did. He returned her smile with kindness, not judging but accepting.

"Then let me pray with you. At a night like this, no one should be alone."

She closed her eyes again in response, throat hurting, eyes burning. Grief and fear were fighting constantly in her head, Carver's voice echoing in a duet with her father's. Had she started to speak, she might have cried. Silence helped. Silence healed.

But it healed even more when it was shared.


	2. Whisper

He found her all by herself, outside in the snow. Black, wavy hair, dark eyes, a red scarf around her neck, selling handmade necklaces and wooden rings to passers-by and giving them away to the orphans. She rarely talked with strangers.

"Do you want to pray with me?" he asked. He received a warm smile and a shaking of her head for an answer.

"No, thank you," she whispered. "I want to sell these before I leave.”

He would not call her shy. Maybe reserved, but her face was full of expressions. He saw it when she talked - every day a city guard would stop at the small corner in Hightown, greeting her and chatting for a few moments before moving on. Then she would look more relaxed, though her expression indicated that her thoughts were far away from Hightown.

"Are you sure you do not wish to pray?" he asked her again, this time when she had that far-away expression on her face. Sebastian knew grief when he saw it. And he knew that you were not allowed to leave someone by themselves in these states but also not to force yourself on them. His solution was simple - he gave her the option to engage in conversation with him. He was not the prince, demanding attention. He was a brother of faith - stretching out a hand.

"I still have to sell five pieces," she answered after blinking in surprise. "My mother makes them, you see. They are not much, and the people in Lowtown do not care about jewellery, no matter how simple it is."

"Lowtown?" Sebastian couldn't help himself and scrutinized her for a moment. Her clothes indicated just that: torn trousers, worn-out shoes. The lady's hands showed several callouses and marks from burns. He had never noticed that, usually focusing on a person's face instead of what they were wearing. "I would have taken you for a lady, Serah."

She blushed faintly, an almost silent "Oh" escaping her throat. Nervously she began to run her hands around the wooden ring she had shown him just a moment ago. "Well... uhm... no, I'm... I'm not. I'm a Bethany. I mean... I'm Bethany."

Sebastian held out his hand, ignoring how nervous she was. Some people never knew how to take a compliment - usually because they were modest, or so he told himself.

"Sebastian. Save one of those rings for me, will you? I'll come back - and then we will talk?"

A soft smile made its way to Bethany's lips. "Then we'll talk."

 

*

 

Bethany's cheeks were red from the cold. The fingertips of her hands had taken a dark pink colour as well. At least the scarf protected her neck a little, or else Sebastian would have worried for her health. Now that they had entered the chantry once again and made their way up to the second floor, she was slowly looking more comfortable with the world around her.

"Are you hungry, Bethany? You must have been standing in the cold for a long time."

She shook her head, sitting down next to one of the fires he and the chantry sisters had lighted, and stretched out her hands.

"My mother will cook for us tonight. She wants me to be home with an empty stomach." Her lips curled into a slight smirk while she glanced at him. Sebastian sat down beside her.

"Is it just you and your mother?" he asked. Her reaction didn't surprise him - the woman straightened her back, and placed her hands on her lap. She turned around to him, her look an expression of distrust.

"We are not in trouble, Messere. You do not need to worry about me."

"The Maker worries about all of his children. Watching a young woman spend her days outside in the cold, all by herself, I can do no less.”

She sighed. "Brother Sebastian, in this place there are people who have it a lot worse than me. I've seen mothers carrying their children to a grave. I've seen people hungry and I've seen poverty. We don't have much but we get by - my mother, my uncle, my siblings-" For a moment she had the same expression on her face as the one she’d had the first time he saw her. Her golden eyes were emotional and yet dark, sorrow making it impossible for Sebastian to see his reflection. She swallowed for a moment.

"My sister. The four of us get by. She does a lot for us and so does mother. Uncle Gamlen tries sometimes. And I try not to be a burden. So you do not need to worry about me. We'll make it through winter, this year and the next one. We always do."

He didn't dare push any further. Pushing someone never ended well - his parents had pushed their expectations on him, and it had led him to make several mistakes. Sometimes people needed space - and maybe that was just what Bethany needed as well, a safe space for herself.

"But at the moment you are here. I will not ask you any more questions about your family, if it unsettles you. I just think you could use a friend and a fire - that is what I offer you."

The laugh that escaped her carried so much bitterness with it, it surprised him. "You wouldn't want to be friends with me, Brother Sebastian."

"How about I decide that for myself?"

"No.” She had started to entangle her own fingers, squeezing her hands together in a nervous fashion. The dark curls hung before her face like a veil. "Listen, I appreciate your concern but... I don't have any friends at the moment and there’s a reason for that. My mother is lonely, so I stay with her."

This explanation did not satisfy him at all. "What about your own happiness?"

Bethany slowly moved one of the long strands of hair behind her ear. "I'm happy if I'm not a burden to anyone. That's enough for me."

"Then a friendship with me won't be a problem - because I am asking you to be my friend."

"And how would I do that?"

"Talking is enough."

Her expression softened a little, her right hand clinging to the scarf she wore. "Talking... yes, I can do just that."

So talk they did. About mundane things, not family or life goals but colours and seasons. She loved red and the first days of summer. He loved the smell right before a thunderstorm and the richness of gold. Only later he would realize that, just as he had assumed about her, he had been in need of friend himself.

  
*

“Summer will start soon," Sebastian observed as they were making their way down the stairs to Lowtown. He always brought her home; that was, he brought her to the market and then turned around. The first time he had asked her where she lived, she had just laughed nervously but not given him a more concrete answer.

"The nights get warmer," she quietly observed, loosening the knot of her scarf a little and offering him a kind smile. "Seems all that is left from your offer is your friendship, for a fire won't be necessary by now."

He bowed gracefully in a mocking fashion, but movements that you had once been trained to do never leave your blood.

"You always look so elegant," she added, glancing at the stars for a moment. "You have to teach me one day."

As they passed the market she didn't stop, like she usually did, but walked on. Hesitantly he followed her steps past the stands, past houses and shops and past the Hanged Man.

"I have a question, Sebastian. I know we haven't been friends for a long time, but you're the only one I can talk to."

Bethany walked a bit faster, so that he faced her back. He knew by now that she did not like looking at others when she was talking about topics that unsettled her. She was not someone who made eye-contact with others unless she was talking about something she liked.

"If you had found a way to make life easier for those around you,” she murmured, “would you do it? Even if it would take them a while to realize why you did so?"

He kept his distance, following her and yet leaving her space at the same moment. "What do you mean?"

"I've just had a lot on my mind lately," she looked over her shoulder as if to check if he was still there. Catching his eye, she held their gaze for a moment before turning away once again. "I've been thinking about the Maker. And I have been thinking about myself, the way I am and the way I want to be. I feel very conflicted about that, you see. What if what is best in me is something the Maker wouldn't like?"

He didn't follow her and how could he? What were talks of bread and clothes, of seasons and candles worth if it came to knowing an actual person? They were friends but in moments like these they were strangers as well, talking and not talking at all.

"I'm sure there's nothing about you that the Maker would disapprove of," he heard himself say, meaning every word of it. She was kind. Gentle. Friendly. Someone he liked to be around.

They stopped at another pair of stairs, leading up to a house with several flats inside. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"If you knew a way to make life better and easier for yourself and the people you loved, even if it would be painful at first, even if being honest would hurt someone in the process… Would you do it, Sebastian?"

How was he supposed to answer that? He, who had not yet found a middle ground between what he was supposed to be and what he wanted to be? He was still looking. But admitting this wouldn't help her, would it?

"I think I would," he answered instead, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She blinked a few times; her eyes seemed to be suspiciously watery that moment. "Thank you," she whispered. Sebastian's eyes widened by the tone of her voice - broken and soft at the same moment, strong and controlled. It felt as if these words came from her heart, more so than any other words she had shared with him before.

For a moment they remained like this, looking at each other and feeling the night around themselves. Finally she stepped back, not saying another word, and made her way into the house.

 

*

 

She didn't come back. It was as if she had stepped through that door and vanished. Sebastian started looking for her - in Hightown, in Lowtown's market, at their usual spot in the Chantry. When he made his way back to her house, her Uncle told him quite bluntly that she had joined the Circle by her own choice.


	3. Speech

There was no sunlight in the Circle, no wind and no rain, just people - young and old, elven and human, all together.

"I heard you passed your Harrowing just after being here for two days. That is amazing!"

At least the people didn't seem all that desperate. Helena had been following her every step since they had been assigned to the same room. It had been intended for a single occupant, but with the overwhelming number of mages being brought in, they had to make do with what they had.

Helena wore her hair like a boy, had passed her Harrowing a year ago, and sometimes went to go to 'private lessons' with an elven apprentice named Jaken. All in all, she was one of the few friends Bethany had around her age in the Circle. Both of them believed the idea to be the right one, though Bethany had learned that saying so earned you more mistrust both from templars and mages.

"I... found it rather surprising that it was already my turn," Bethany confessed with an embarrassed smile, looking back at her books for a moment. "But I passed. I'm safe now, aren’t I?”

That was what Anders had told her at least. You weren't going to be turned tranquil if you passed your Harrowing and did nothing to upset the templars. Of course, he had told her that breathing itself could upset the templars under the right circumstances, but there was only so much that she could worry over.

"You are. So now the fun begins - find a faction, tutor some children, bat your eyelashes at a handsome young man.” Helena winked as Bethany jokingly hit her shoulder. "Hey! I'm just making some suggestions. Don't worry. Life's not that bad here. We've got food, a roof over our heads, and even some fancy robes and good literature. Have you ever read Hard in Hightown?" Bethany tried not to laugh. She was very familiar with those books.

"You laugh! So you have. I knew you weren't as innocent as you look."

"Looks can be deceiving, dear Helena."

It felt good to just chat and laugh, no more avoiding any topics. She had liked to talk with Sebastian as well, but had been afraid to lose his friendship if she told him about her condition. What kind of Chantry brother was friends with a mage anyway? Here she had nothing to hide.

"I know. That's why I pay even more attention to them."

"Also to that templar in the corner?" Bethany whispered, glancing at the old man in templar skirts and then back to her books.

"You mean Ser Alrik? Yes, he seems to patrol the library a lot. I see him almost daily. Just make sure you’re not alone with him and everything should be fine."

Somehow Bethany didn't feel so comforted by that piece of advice.  
  
*

“How long have you been here?" Bethany asked one night, sure that Helena was still awake.

"Mm? I came back from Jaken's two hours ago."

"I mean in the Circle." Bethany reached out to the chandelier and snapped her fingers, lighting the candle so she could see a bit better in their room. Since they had no windows, every source of light was valued. Bethany missed the moonlight more than she had imagined she would.

Groaning, Helena sat up and stretched for a moment, closing her eyes while doing so.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just curious," Bethany replied. "So...?"

"Mm, must be ten years, I think. Lost count."

"Ten years!"

Helena opened her eyes and shrugged, "I came here as a child. The moment I reheated my tea because it was too cold for me, my mother dragged me over here. We've been writing letters since then. It's not a big deal. I mean, you've been writing to your family, too."

Bethany sighed. "Yes, but mine isn't answering. I think Mother is maybe just too nervous to do so, and my Uncle and I were never that close. But my sister... Well, I guess I hurt her by leaving."

"Just keep writing," Helena said, her voice turning a bit softer. She was already lying down again. "It took my parents a while to answer me, too. It's a new situation for everybody. But who knows? Soon she might come to visit, to see how you’re doing. From what I know, your family loves you very much. Don't you believe that?"

Bethany snapped her fingers again so that the fire would go out.

"Yes... I think I do."

It just felt so different, going to sleep at night without Gamlen snoring, mother tossing and turning, and their mabari trying to jump onto her bed. Before that, she and Carver had shared a room and it had taken her a while to get used to him grinding his teeth while he was dreaming. Helena slept without making any noise. Bethany would never have thought that an environment could be too silent to sleep in.

  
*

 

Of course there was time for prayers within a Chantry institution. It was required to attend service at least once a week, but Bethany did so thrice. The small chapel was not as grand and calming as the Chantry, but it helped her cure the homesickness she began to feel whenever she was alone in her room for longer than a minute.

She was surprised to find a familiar person there, cleaning the altar, lost in thought. With slow steps she approached him, clearing her throat and smiling when he turned around.

"Bethany!" Sebastian gasped, his surprised expression turning into a pleased one. "You are well?"

"I am," she confessed, giving him a relaxed smile returning to him the piece of cloth that he’d dropped. "I… I am sorry for just leaving like that. I just... I thought it would be better to leave right away. I wanted to make sure Mother wouldn't get into any trouble."

Sebastian continued to clean. "You do not need to apologize. You did what you thought was the correct choice, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why would you need to apologize? You are happy here, I take?"

The smile on her lips got a bit wider. Carefully, she made a step in his direction. "I am, though I do miss our talks."

"We could just talk here," Sebastian suggested. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as though he were fighting down a smirk. "If you would be okay with that."

"I would, my friend."

 

*

"Did you hear about the Tranquil Solution?" Jaken asked.

Bethany and Helena had come to him to practice the correct motions for creating rock armour. Bethany had always been better at offensive spells, but she found that she enjoyed studying the defensive ones. She also liked spending time with Helena and Jaken, though she sometimes felt left out when they were sighing at each other.

"The what?" Helena inquired, walking around the two of them, already in perfect rock armour.

"The Tranquil Solution. Apparently some people want all of us to be tranquil in order to make sure we do not harm anyone."

Bethany gasped, losing her focus and lowering her hands. Meeting Karl had given her nightmares for several weeks - losing all of your emotions was something she would never want to endure.

"But that's insane! You cannot just make all of us tranquil, that's-"

"Against the rules?" Helena mused, rolling her eyes. "Beth, you know as well as we do, the world's not kind to us. Though... this must be against the idea of the Circle, don't you think? We’re supposed to learn to control ourselves. What is there left to control, if we lose our self-awareness?"

“Nothing.” Jaken spit on the ground, rocks forming around his hand. “I heard Ser Alrik mention this to a friend of mine. Isn't he the one who asked you to help him with some templar training, Helena? Something with young recruits?"

Helena grimaced. Obviously, Jaken was right.

"They need some mages to attack them so they can learn how to shield themselves. It's not a big deal, Jaken. He's a creep, but I won't be alone with him. I should be fine."

"I hope you will be, love." Jaken leaned a bit more in her direction so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "You'll keep an eye on her, won’t you, Bethany?"

"Of course."  
  
*

 

"I told you, nothing happened," Helena hissed, waving her hand at Bethany in dismissal. "Just some warm-ups, like he said. You told me yourself once, that you don't think all templars are bad. Like... that Keran guy for example."

Bethany sighed. Helena had been spending more and more time with the templar recruits, helping them train all day and then returning exhausted to their room. Bethany and Jaken had tried to accompany her, had offered the templars their help, but Ser Alrik hadn’t allowed it. After all, Jaken was still an apprentice and Bethany a new addition to the Circle. According to him, they should have counted themselves lucky to be allowed to watch.

There was something about Ser Alrik that Bethany didn't like. She wished she could ask Anders about it. He had far more contacts in the Circle than she did.

"But can't he get another mage for that?"

"So you think I'm not a good mage? Just because I don't go to Chantry service as often as you or... or because I don't have family living in a fancy estate?" Helena glared at her, getting out of her robe in order to change into her nightgown. "Because if you were to say that-"

"I would never even think that. I just don't want you to overexert yourself." For a moment neither of them said anything, just glared at one another, before they sighed in unison.

"I just miss you, you see. Me and Jaken. You’re his girlfriend, after all."

"Yes, I miss you, too. But I cannot just quit. He's a templar. Who knows what happens if I tell him I'm suddenly not in the mood anymore? I need to do it with more finesse." Helena winked at her and gently bumped her shoulder against Bethany's.

"Give me some time, will you? Soon I'll be able to fake a cold or something. Then he'll need to find someone else. No need to feel lonely, Beth. I'm not going anywhere."

 

*

When she awakened, the bed was empty and the door was open. Bethany always insisted on closing it. Gamlen had sometimes tried to empty her pockets while she was asleep and since then she had preferred to sleep with doors closed.

She got into her robe and made her way to the library in search of Helena. Then to Jaken’s room. She could not find either of them. She headed over to the chapel, and that was where she found Jaken, seated on one of the benches and sobbing into his hands. Sebastian was with him, hesitantly patting the elf’s back. Jaken looked up and saw her. Bethany rushed to his side, pulling him into her arms.

"She's... she's..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. Bethany gently rubbed his back, exchanging a helpless look with Sebastian, who continued his motions as well. The other mages left them to themselves. It was odd to see how easily they all understood what must have happened.

"I told her to be careful! I told her to stay away from him!"

"She passed her Harrowing. She thought she was safe," Bethany whispered.

"No one is ever safe. Not here. Not anywhere. Not as long as we have magic in our veins. Not as long as we’re connected to Fade. She's safe now, Beth, safe. She will not harm anyone. As she said herself - she's Ser Alrik's now."

He continued to weep, his shoulders trembling with every move. Bethany caught Sebastian's questioning look. "Ask _him,_ " she whispered, "The healer."

"I doubt he would like my company."

"If you tell him this, he will listen. He needs to know." She saw that Sebastian disagreed with her, but yet he nodded. A week later Anders wrote to her, asking for as much information as she could give.

*****

The day she was finally allowed to go outside and feel the sun on her cheeks, she still did not feel any better. She spent it walking alongside Jaken, talking about dreams and their lives before the Circle. When they passed a blonde tranquil with short hair and the Chantry sun on her forehead instead of stars in her eyes, they both bowed their heads.

            “Good day, Enchanter Bethany. Apprentice Jaken.”

            Jaken started to sob again, and so Bethany replied for them. “Good day, Helena.”


	4. Scream

Travelling with her sister once again felt difficult. The Hawkes had been close, but since Bethany had joined the Circle, their affection seemed to be more and more silent. Bethany had sent a letter once but "Hawke", as everyone called her older sibling, had never replied.

"It's good to see you again, sweetness." Isabela grinned, holding her hand and squeezing it as they wandered through the Deep Roads as if it were an evening walk around the fields. Fenris managed to smile. Anders asked her questions about the Circle. Varric kept her company while Hawke, Sebastian and Aveline scouted ahead, telling her about all of her sister's adventures - not that she didn't know about them in general. You could not kill the Arishok and expect it to be a secret. Varric gave all of this a little more detail, making it easier to follow. Merrill had exchanged simple spells with her, along with a hand-made friendship bracelet. Aveline had told her that she should eat more before blushing in embarrassment over the motherly advice.

And then there was Sebastian, behaving so familiar around her in front of the other companions that she wondered if they knew about their friendship. As he had been more open about his past with her sister's friends, she could inquire a bit more about it as well.

"So, Sebastian... You're a prince?" she asked. It explained a lot to her - his good manners, his shining armour, his elegance, and the way her heart sometimes began to flutter when he looked at her. Princes had that affect on daydreamers.

"That is my lot, Lady Hawke" he answered, a slight smirk making its way on his face.

"I'm a mage", she corrected him, a small laugh escaping her. A mage and a lady? Maybe in Tevinter, but that place didn't sound like somewhere she'd like to be from. She could never be a lady, and even imagining to be one was a bit too idealistic for her. "I don't hear Lady very often."

He paused for a moment, openly surprised about her answer, while her sister and Varric carried on, though they could hardly hide the fact that they were listening.

"You think there's a shame being in the Circle?"

"Isn't there?"

Hawke clenched her fist, but Varric took her hand to stop her from turning around. Bethany looked at them in surprise as they entangled their fingers so naturally, like something they had done several times before. For a moment she felt left out. They all had gotten so familiar with each other while she had spent her time over books, locked in the Gallows. _It was my own choice. I'm not in the position to regret this now._

"You were made as you are. I have yet to see the evidence of the Maker's fallibility", he looked her into the eyes, the smirk softening to a graceful smile. "I certainly don't see any in you."

Bethany felt her cheeks turning warm and her mouth almost falling open. Hastily, she looked at her feet, "I..." She tried to answer but couldn't think of what else to add. How did you return such a wonderful compliment without making a fool of yourself? Or could she decline this? Without hurting him. "Oh my..."

"Choirboy is butter", Varric commented, earning a few giggles from her sister and a "He melted mine” from Isabela.

As Bethany glanced back at Sebastian, she still found him looking at her, his expression unchanged.

 

*

 

The joy she had felt at the beginning of their adventure vanished as they made their way back to Kirkwall. Her sister had tried to cheer her up, even mimicked Carver's jig, but as she spent a few moments by herself back her room in the inn, her father's voice echoed inside her head. How much he had wished that his children would be free from magic? How much had she disappointed him with being born exactly like this, cursed and not gifted?

Her hands showed already so many signs of her life as a mage - they were a tool and after a while tools got more and more used, loosing the beauty they had. Anders had once asked her if she wanted him to remove her scars, but she had decided not to. It reminded her of what she was and that she should never be proud of it.

_Serving what is best in me? What is there?_

A knock on the door tore her away from her thoughts. She responded with “Enter,” and Sebastian joined her, an expression of worry on his face.

"I thought you might want to talk,” he said.

"We are talking, aren't we?" she replied. She turned away from the window she had been looking through, leaning against the windowsill.

"And we are friends, aren't we?" he said, closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Good."

He raised an eyebrow sceptically and joined her at the windowsill, looking through it into the night. Silence hugged the both of them, only to be broken by Isabela's loud laughter, Fenris' giggling, and Aveline's protests from a floor below.

"Then you are the first person I know that feels good while looking through the black of the night and not seeing anything."

"Sebastian, I am alright. Soon we'll all be home again and resume our daily activities - you as a brother of a Chantry, sister as the Champion of Kirkwall." She sighed, running her hand through her hair. "And I as an Enchanter of the Circle. I do not see why you need to be worried."

"You just... You didn't really talk since we left the Warden Prison and Corypheus behind." Of course she hadn't. Had she done so, she would have cried and Bethany Hawke never cried. Her sister had shed a few tears and had needed Isabela's kisses to gather herself together once more. Bethany had wished she could cry as well, but that would have been too dangerous.

"I like your voice and I like to hear you talk. So I thought we might do that again."

"You have my sister and her friends now, if you want to talk," she snapped, surprised by the fierceness in her voice. He didn't react to it, luckily.

"Yes, they are your sister’s friends, but you are mine. Sometimes you find things very daunting before you experience them yourself. Hawke always speaks very fondly of your father and the way he tried to play with all three of you."

All three. Of course, he hadn't forgotten about Carver. Now that mother was gone, there were just two Hawkes left. The thought of that felt like a sting in her heart.

"He must have loved you all very much."

"I do not doubt my father's love, but...I must have disappointed him."

"How can you disappoint someone just with your birth if your parents wished for another child? I told you, there is nothing wrong with you."

She felt warm for a moment but at the same second her stomach twisted slightly. After all, he had just tried to comfort her, maybe joke with her. He knew exactly what she was. Of course there was something wrong with her.

"You do not need to say this," she reminded him. "I know what I am, Sebastian."

"I do not need to say what?"

"These words to comfort me. I'm not as good as you always say. I know you just reassure me so I feel better, but I am very aware of myself."

Sebastian frowned and swallowed, his full voice growing a bit lower. "You think I'm just saying these things because I want to reassure you?"

"Everyone does, Sebastian. We are alone now, so you do not need to force yourself to say anything," Bethany gave him a polite smile, turning her head back to the window. "There is nothing wrong with white lies, but between us we can keep to the truth."

"You think I lied to you? You think it is impossible for me to think you are like sunshine itself?"

Why did he sound so indignant? Of course she wasn't like sunshine. She was a mage, something to be handled carefully, not something you admired. Especially if you were as kind as him.

"I am not worth your praise. I am a mage, and I do not forget where I am supposed to be in this world." Kept away from others so she wouldn't hurt them. Taught to keep people of her own safe, other mages, ready to teach them to serve what was best in them - protecting each other and the world from themselves.

"So you hate yourself that much?" Sebastian had raised his voice and reached for her hand. His movements were so fast that she couldn't draw back. He caught it with a firmness she had only seen him have in the midst of battle. No one could always be gentle. Not even him.

"Isn't that what I am supposed to believe?" she asked, only to find him shaking his head.

"No one is supposed to believe anything."

"I hate being a mage, Sebastian," Bethany confessed, sick of his blindness to the obvious facts. If he wanted to hear what she believed, she would give it to him. "I would have never been able to make Mother proud. I disappointed Father. We were always on the run, never able to build Mother the home she deserved. You do not know how it feels, to think that every motion you do without thinking could hurt someone!" she hissed, trying to free herself from his grasp. Her thoughts were right on her tongue as they came through her head, no longer held she back those whispers that were always inside her. "Do I think that the templars’ treatment is wrong? Yes! But I also think that the Circle is necessary, believe it or not. This way we don't have to hide; this way people might treat us a bit better. It's hideous, isn't it? Anders and Fenris would both disagree, Merrill would shake her head, and my sister already disagrees so much that-"

In that moment he just pulled her close, burying his hand in her hair. He rubbed her back with his free hand. "It's fine, Bethany."

_Don't cry. No matter how soothing and right this feels, don't cry._

"It's not fine!" she heard herself answer, her voice dangerously brittle. "I don't belong anywhere, don't you see that? One party says it's wrong for me to believe in the Maker and I should like myself for being a mage. The Maker wants us to be kept in the Circle and be careful and never forget how dangerous we are, and I… I can’t agree with both of them!"

She pushed him away from her, feeling the palms of her hands turning warm. She had never been so openly angry like this before. What if she lost control and hurt him? Sebastian's expression made her burning anger turn to cold fear - shock was visible in his eyes, he had taken a step back from her. _So you do fear me as much as I fear myself?_

"Bethany, I-"

"GO!", she screamed, feeling her hands shaking. She hugged her shoulders and took a step back, finally turning away from him. "Go before we regret this even more. Please, just go."

She heard him slowly approaching the door, his steps careful, just like when he had escorted her to Lowtown.

"I meant everything I said to you, Bethany. To me you are perfect the way you are - the only fault I can see now is that you cannot see this for yourself."

He closed the door louder than necessary, and with that she felt just like she had back at the Circle – alone.


	5. Outcry

They had locked themselves in the backyard, but hardly all of them fit in there. Bethany ignored the ugly twists in her stomach at her sister’s expression. She had sided with the templars. Never before had Bethany felt so betrayed.

"I'm scared," one of her pupils whispered, hiding behind her skirt. So was she. It had all happened so fast - two weeks after they had returned from the Warden Prison, the chantry had been bombed and the Right of Annulment had been invoked. She wondered where Sebastian was, if he had been inside the chantry that moment. He probably had, maybe trying to shelter people from the fights in the streets. _No...no the fights started after the explosion._

"We'll fight or we die," Orsino explained, sighing as he saw the three children that sat in the corner with Bethany. He was even more on edge than before, his hands always in movement, never resting.

"There really is no secret way out? No passage through which we could escape?" one of the Enchanters asked. The First Enchanter shook his head.

One of the children started to cry. Bethany caressed her pupil's head for a moment, before she took a step toward Orsino. "Listen, I'm-"

"You do not need to apologize for your sister's behaviour. She has made her choice. As we all have."

But she wanted to apologize. This did not seem to be like her at all. Why would someone choose to fight mages if they had lived with good ones all of their life? What had her people done to make someone think that they all deserved this fate? She felt like back in the inn - all by herself. All of them knew that this would be their last fight. Never before had people survived the Right of Annulment.

"I don't understand how they even let us hope," Orsino told her. "Why not drown us as infants? Why let us grow up and feel? Feel love and regret and get attached to living. I don't understand it." He massaged his left arm in thought, as if he was looking for something.

Bethany cleared her throat, raising her voice, to somehow use the room to carry her words over the screams they could hear in the hall. "My father always said magic is supposed to serve what is best in us. So let us show them just this... show them what is best in us. We all are mages, that is true. But that is not a reason to hate ourselves.” She wished she could believe her own words. She did, when she thought of it as an abstract idea. But when she applied it to herself, all she could do was shake her head. "It is not a reason to kill us,” she said, rephrasing her words. "So we shouldn't give them the chance to do so."

"Yes," Orsino whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I am afraid that I have to agree."

"Afraid?"

“You will see what I mean, Bethany," he said, squeezing her shoulder once before letting go of her. "And I am sorry."

With that he pushed her to the side. Her head crushed against the iron fences, and the children rushed to her aid while he stepped into the middle of the room.

"Enchanter Bethany is right - we shouldn't give them a chance. And thus we should use those possibilities that the Maker has given us. Why not triumph over them for once, why not show them that we, the mages of Kirkwall, have every right to be feared?"

_No! What are you talking about?_ Bethany rubbed the back of her head, slowly trying to get to her feet.

"For the first and the last time in all of those years, I ask you for something. Give me the chance to defy them. Give me what I need to be stronger - give me your life." For a moment she hoped she didn't hear correctly, but as Orsino held out a knife and passed it to the first Enchanter that stepped forward, he knew what it meant.

"Don't!" she begged, but it was too late. Bethany was held back by two Enchanters, while she watched the others slowly stabbing themselves with one and the same knife, one after the other.

"United in blood -both in life and in death," Orsino whispered, as he took the blade back, taking a step closer to her, "Magic will serve what is best in us. Just like you said."

"No!" She freed herself, reaching for her staff. A few of her pupils followed her example. "This is not right! This is not what is best in us."

She was never so glad when the Knight-Commander stormed into the room, side by side with her sister.  


*  


Then again, the Right of Annulment had only one ending for a mage - death. She had watched it all - the First Enchanter admitting his involvement with the man who killed her mother, his struggle to at least take as many people with him as he could. And the worst thing was, that despite all of this she couldn't help but feel bad for him, more than she could ever be thankful for her unbidden rescue by the Knight-Commander herself.

"I can't believe it."

There he was - no longer a man but a monster, her sister's hand dripping with his blood. Meredith's gaze focused on Orsino for a moment. Bethany didn't see any regret on the templar's face.

"How could he do this?" her voice was breaking, while she finally felt her legs giving up on her. Bethany fell on her knees, fighting back the tears that began to pool in her eyes. They felt like they were burning. The stench of blood and lyrium was in the air, perversely pungent.

"Such is the curse that you carry,” Meredith replied, "difficult as it may be to accept."

Bethany looked at her hands. She saw the scars on her hands, those scars she hated so much and yet had been accustomed to looking at. The burn scars from the first fire spells, the scars from their time with the Red Iron.

"You..." She blinked away the tears that came, getting to her feet once more. She wouldn't let her take what was left of him. Hawke had killed the First-Enchanter after he had turned to blood magic, something Bethany would never have thought he would. She never would have thought he would conspire with the man who had murdered her mother either. She would never have thought him capable of the action he performed in that last moment. He had been too desperate to be held back by morals. Bethany didn't know what to think about that. It was all too fresh, so she swallowed it down with one breath, down with the dark thoughts in her heart. She knew one thing however. "Your insanity drove him to this!"

"I will not argue with you, mage." Right she was. Bethany was a mage, but for the first time she did not think of it as a curse. It had so much to do with what happened around you - magic in itself was not as evil as this woman wanted her to believe. "My purpose here is clear." Meredith stepped forward, reaching for her sword.

"And I am just one more abomination to be dealt with," she replied, gesturing at the corpses around them. Men and women who had not yet passed their Harrowing, as young as she was when she had come to Kirkwall. Children who had barely been able to cast a fire bolt, already struck down, just to be safe. This was not justice, this was not what the Maker wanted, nor Andraste. If they were the Maker's children, humans, dwarves and elves, men and women, mages and templars, he wouldn't want them to slaughter each other.

"Yes. I see what comes next."

Hawke stepped in front of her, just like she had when they had been fleeing Lothering and Wesley had approached them. She looked older. Tired. "Back away from her, Meredith."

"I see,” the Knight-Commander replied to Bethany's surprise, "Have it your way, then. I will meet you in the courtyard, Champion." She left as if it were the simplest thing she’d ever done. Bethany didn't even hear what her sister said - the moment Meredith was gone, she threw her arms around her, surprised to find out how short her hair was. She ran her hands along her cheek to find scars she had never seen. Hawke and Bethany swallowed down their tears with heavy breaths, hugging and being silent in for the moment they were allowed, surrounded by the people they trusted. When she saw Sebastian, her heart beat even faster, but that moment of happiness vanished when she found Anders missing.

"Where-"

"Not now," Hawke interrupted, leading her towards the exit. "Bethany, I am sorry I didn't respect your choice. This time I will. You can come with us and leave Kirkwall behind... Or you stay, protected by my words, in the Circle. But first-"

"First we'll talk," Bethany interrupted, catching Sebastian's eye, "All of us."

Life flashed once again in front of their eyes when they reached the courtyard. Safety was an illusion; it always was. Meredith threatened them, mistrusted them so much that even the most loyal of the templars seemed to realize what whispers had hinted at all along. She was too paranoid, the lyrium idol pressing its influence against her. Praying with the Chant of Light, reciting the prayers Bethany had whispered to herself, she attacked, her skin glowing red as blood.

"Lady Hawke, to me!" Sebastian shouted and Bethany followed, leaving a cone of cold with a swift move of her hand behind her, to keep the Knight-Commander at distance. She heard Isabela's triumphant laughter as she took her place next to Sebastian, but it suddenly turned from happiness to a surprised gasp. The silhouette behind the ice disappeared into the air. The Prince of Starkhaven and Bethany looked up to see Meredith jumping several feet into the air, her sword striking out directly in their direction. Bethany was the first to react. With both hands she grabbed her staff and held it right in front of her, stepping closer to Sebastian. Lyrium-embedded steel met enchanted copper, for a moment it seemed as if time was standing still. Then Bethany's staff broke. She and Sebastian stepped to the side, just in time to evade the blade itself. Meredith was so close now that Bethany could spot the traces of silver in her blonde hair. Sebastian reached for his knife, but was shoved back by the Knight-Commander's shoulder while Bethany took a step back, falling over her own feet.

Her staff was broken, how could she control these powers inside of her?

As Meredith kicked at her with boots made from steel, Bethany screamed, trying to shove her away in reaction. She could taste the magic on her lips; she felt it tingling in the tips of her fingers. Meredith stumbled a few steps back, as surprised as Bethany over the force the push had. That moment was long enough for Donnic to charge at the Commander and Bethany to get to her feet. The mage looked at her hands, those ugly scarred hands, panic still rushing through her blood. But this time, fear felt like a good thing. At least now she was sure to be alive.


	6. Echo

It was as if a choir had begun singing. The first solo broke the silence, and like rain, voices joined from the halls, echoing and melting into one sound. The sound of a broken person, the melody of agony and angst in one noise.

It took her a moment to realize that instead of a choir it was just herself. No one had joined that one sound, that one wholehearted emotion. It had all been herself. Crying, not holding back any longer.

Her own echo made her aware of how weak she truly felt. The smell of blood became stronger, her hands were burning with fire, magic pulsing in unison with her heart. Slowly the clashing of swords and the screaming that always came hand in hand with battles made its way to her.

_You soulless bastards._

Meredith stroked at her but the barrier Merrill had casted around her held. Bethany formed a triangle with her hands, now that her staff had been broken.

_Magic will always serve what is best in me._

Fire formed in the empty space between her hands, this time so hot that the flame was blue instead of red. Meredith had changed her target and was now rushing towards Merrill, who was busy guarding Varric's back.

_Back away from her, Meredith._

The fire made its way across to Meredith, a scream escaping the Knight-Commander while she turned back to Bethany, ready to jump once more.

_We're family._

When the Knight-Commander charged, Hawke pushed Bethany to the side, blocking the attack with her sword. Bethany fell to the ground.

_I meant everything I said to you._

She lost herself in the echoes of time, blood and pain. The echoes of magic - and with that the world went dark.


	7. Answer

Bethany never cried, but this time tears ran along her cheeks, sobs escaping her again and again, no matter how hard she tried to keep it in. Her vision had gone blurry and for a moment she just wept, her body moving forwards and backwards, her hands trembling. The floor felt cold under her knees. She felt so much. Anger and pain and sadness. Yet she also felt numb, as though she were outside of her body and watching herself.

When she finally calmed down, she realized someone had been holding her, trying to fight off the cold and bring what little warmth he could closer to her. Sebastian was silence once more, beautiful healing silence. Not judging. Nothing but acceptance.

She could still smell blood, but by now she smelt the sea as well, gently caressing her cheeks with its wind and scent. This wasn't Kirkwall. Sebastian pulled her just a bit closer.

"Where are we?" she heard herself asking. He let go of her for a moment, but when she pressed her head closer to his chest, he returned to his position. Bethany glanced upwards to look into his eyes. He looked tired, dark circles below the colour of the sky, but managed to smile.

"Where the wind goes, Lady Hawke."

"Where does the wind go, Brother Sebastian?"

He ran his fingers through her black curls, "The wind goes wherever it wants to go. I say it's a companion of the Maker Himself. Isabela says it is the sea's breath. Yet while the wind goes wherever it wants to go, it always returns to one place. Where are we, Lady Hawke?"

The wind had dried her tears, as if to reassure her that she knew the answer. Sometimes it was good to keep quiet. Yet sometimes facing your fears and letting your heart reach for the wind would bring you to the answer you were longing to find for as long as you could remember. Bethany took Sebastian's hand and entangled their fingers, first brushing against them, and then joining them until their palms rested against each other. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. He nodded in her direction and Bethany followed his suggestion.

"I know where I am," she said, turning her head. Isabela allowed Fenris to put an earring back into her right ear. Varric jokingly winked at Donnic. Merrill bandaged Aveline's right arm. Her sister looked at her palm for a moment before she reached for the sky, a black feather leaving her hand and following freedom's call, before she turned and met Bethany’s eyes.  
  
 _I'm home. I'm where I belong._


End file.
